MK Marathon 2017

Over the last few months I have written 6 blog posts about running the MK Marathon.  My blogs have focused on the route of the Marathon in an attempt by me to familiarise the route so that I wasn't going to be faced with any surprises come race day.  Well that day has been and gone, and there were one or two surprises that I hadn't counted on.

The day started the same as any other race day:  Up early for coffee and orange juice in peace and quiet while the rest of the house was still asleep.  Pin number to vest.  Visit the toilet three to four hundred times...

Kris, Me, Jo, Sian, Mark, and Kev. MK Marathon Ambassadors.

I had to be at Stadium MK early for a photograph with the other Ambassadors but that fitted in nicely with my impatient desire to get to the start line with lots of time to spare before the race got underway.  With the official duties out of the way I made my way to the Yellow starting pen and the sun came out.  The forecast the night before had been for heavy rain so this was a very welcome surprise.

The race got underway and we were off along the dual carriageway towards the city centre.  I know that this is far from the promised scenery of the MK Marathon but with 10,000 people setting off at the same time it makes sense to use the widest section of road available to avoid bunching and let people find their pace.  However, after two miles I realised that my pace for a 4 hour marathon was off.

Against all advice given and received I had set off too fast by about a minute a mile.  But I felt comfortable so I decided not to panic and pressed on regardless hoping that if the wheels did fall off in the latter stages of the race I would have built up a big enough cushion to still finish in under 4 hours.  The sun was now beating down so rather than waiting until mile 9 I gladly took advantage of the first water station just before mile 3.  I saw my family twice between miles 3 and 4 on one of the city centre loops and left them with clear instructions to give me my water bottle back at Willen Lake so that I didn't have to carry it the whole way.

It's easy to look this happy 3 miles into a marathon.

The route finally left the main roads after 5 miles and we got stuck into the much narrower redways that would have been impossible to run along if we had joined them any earlier.  My pace was still "too fast" by the time I got to 6 miles and the crowds at the first Marathon Relay change point.  I have very mixed feelings about marathon relays.  The people coming to the end of their stint sprint finishing is unsettling and the new runners setting off fresh in front of you serves as a reminder of how tired you are.  However, the crowds at the change points are always encouraging, and if you are lucky you can pick up a fresh pace maker for the next stint of your run.

I was lucky and had found an unwitting running buddy.  They were doing a double stint as one of their team had pulled out ill at the last minute.  By the time we got to Willen Lake they too had realised that they had set off too fast but with the excitement of the race they pushed on even faster leaving me behind.  My crew made it to Willen bang on time and handed me back the water that I had given them in the city centre.  I wasn't due to see them again for another 5 miles but a third high five from my eldest son Rhys in under 11 miles, was good going.

I got to halfway in 1:47, twelve minutes ahead of schedule.  I had a similar first half in my previous marathon so I knew that I could easily lose all of that time in the final quarter of the race so I wasn't counting any chickens.  I managed to negotiate the crowds at the next relay change point even though they had encroached onto the path so much that it felt like I was in the pelaton cycling through the crowds of the Tour de France.

I caught up and passed my relay running pace-maker who was paying for her earlier pace.  I encouraged her to start running again, and I hope she did, but our paths never crossed again.  The next water stop was just before a short but hellish climb to the canal towpath opposite the Pennlands Boat Basin.  I took an energy gel (my 3rd of 5) washed it down, rinsed my hands with the rest of the watter bottle and pushed on to Great Linford where I was expecting to see my family for the 4th and final time.

My pace was now slowing but I knew I was still well within my target time and I was now on home turf.  The run on the canal towpath was like visiting an old friend, every step bought back memories of my childhood and adolescence.  Before I knew it I was running though the grounds of Great Linford Manor but something was wrong, my cheer team wasn't there.  I had assumed that I had got there before them but it turns out that unlike me, they had stopped for lunch.

Missing my now traditional high five with Rhys I pressed on with the railway walk ahead of me, a mile and a half stretch of long slow climb, which I had convinced myself would be longer and steeper than it was.  Halfway along the disused railway, on one of the old station platforms, I could see a marquee.  Then I could hear the first strains of music.  It was a brass band playing ELO's Mr Blue Sky.  It's a piece if music that I have no real connection with but at that moment it meant everything.  I was closing in on 18 miles and felt great.  I stopped thinking about running and let the music wash over me, and then I stopped thinking about the music and struggled to fight back emotions.

The music, the running, the scenery, the memories, my potential finish time, the support I'd had from my friends and family all hit me at the same time.  Tears are one thing but I could hardly breathe as my throat constricted and my mouth dried up.  For the first time I felt the need to stop, but only to compose myself.  I didn't, I kept going, one of my goals being to make it around without walking.

I had my emotions back in check but I was onto the section of the route that I didn't know.  The route of the marathon had been littered with amusing motivational phrases but the one in Blue Bridge was not to my taste. At 18.5 miles "Pain is temporary, DNF is forever" was less 'keep going' and more 'you can still mess this up and it will haunt you for the rest of your life.'  I was still moving, I was going to finish, but what was my time going to be?

I passed the 20 mile marker under 3 hours, well above my training pace, but with legs that were starting to notice the miles that they had been through.  Although I didn't know the route from this point I was reassured that I'd got through the 20 mile warm up and was into the 10k race.  If I could change one thing about this section of the race it would be to take away all of the corners.  I could keep my feet moving but the tight bends as we ran through the North Loughton Valley park made it feel like I was running through fire.

The paths straightened up but ahead of me was a stream of runners heading uphill.  I knew this was coming and I knew that it would sap my pace even more, but I didn't know what was behind me.  Somewhere between mile 23 and mile 24 I heard a spectator shout "There's the 3:45 runner".  I hadn't seen the 3:45 pacer in the start pens, not that I was looking, but suddenly a HUGE marathon target was hunting me down just as my legs were thinking about throwing in the towel.

I was passed dear reader and my heart sank.

But I remembered, much faster than my legs were capable of moving, that I wasn't interested in 3:45, I wanted 4 hours.  4 hours would be great.  3:59:37 would be a PB.  I refocused, let 3:45 run away from me and pushed on for the last two miles, still running.

I knew MK had the big stadium finish.  In fact I had already been in the stadium for the Ambassador photo shoot much earlier in the day, but I was willing Stadium MK to come into sight with every step, and then suddenly, the trees broke as I hit the dual carriageways for the final time, and I could see the home of MK Dons in front of me ... and I ran.  I ran past McDonald's.  I ran past where hours before the start line had been.  I ran past the starting pens.  I ran into the stadium.  I ran around the pitch.  And I ran across the finish line, exhausted, sore, ready to drop but elated.  At that moment more than any other I was a runner, and I was spent.

As I shuffled past the finish line I heard my crew who had made it from their lunch break to the stadium just in time to see me cross the finish line.  For me the Milton Keynes Marathon was over.

Crew!

I had wanted to mark my 40th birthday with a marathon.  London wasn't to be, due to the vagaries of the ballot.  I missed out on Paris due to cost and pricing.  But if I had known then, when I was unsuccessful in entering the races, what I know now, I would have forsaken the agony of the London ballot process and shed not one tear over Paris because the Milton Keynes marathon managed to deliver the perfect run to round off my birthday celebrations.

Bling shot

I had run my 2nd marathon, I had run the whole way, I had my family in support all of the way around, and I had finished in 3:47:27 a PB by 12 minutes!

There will be other marathons but Milton Keynes will always have a place in my heart.  It may not have the crowds or history of London but it is a brilliant marathon route through stunning scenery, and the finish in Stadium MK is a real home coming.  It's been a privilege to be one of the MK Marathon Ambassadors this year and I hope to be back soon.